Emotional Origins
by MonkeyCrunch
Summary: The honest mind worker delves into the secret stories of each emotion up in HQ. Violence, sadness, someone taking the last biscuit...being the one of the big bosses may not be as good as you thought.
1. A mind worker's thoughts

**Hello. I'm not the best at making introductions, so give me a break. Oh, is that it? You want to read? Well, no mercy for a first timer I guess. Just kidding. Any creative criticism is welcome here, because I'm not too sure what kind of Inside Out fic this is. Either way, hope you enjoy the intro and I'll update as soon as possible. Bye for now!**

* * *

Look, I'm only in this for money and jelly beans. Sure, it would be great for the honest Mind worker to give their own opinion of the snobbish, high and mighty "emotions" who sit up there lording it over us, but there are certain ones who would most likely hunt me down if I did (Cough* Anger *Cough). The Mind reader called me in for the interview and they were all like, "Come on! We weren't going to print that good a headline anyway!"

This I believed. Half the time it was something like "Riley wins hockey match!" or "Dead mouse found under carpet!" You couldn't read a single page until it was replaced with yet another one. So I cracked in the end. After all this – and by "this", I mean the tragedy, the violence and the sheer ludicrous aspects of it all, you low wage comrades out there should feel better about your existence. Being top notch isn't what it's all cracked up to be. And if it doesn't, I honestly don't know what will.

So we'll go over all five. We'll begin with a bit of story and flourish in a little happiness…and then, for the best part, we'll wallow in the depths of their darkness and despair. I'm cruel like that.

Good? Good. Let's go.


	2. Joy? No? OK, Sadness

**JOY**

Why does every guide start with Joy? Seriously, we need to start something fresh here. The woman's ego would already reach the moon had it took physical form. There are plenty of other emotions out there. You know what, screw it. We'll delay the inevitable a bit and give some the attention to someone who deserves it more. Let's discuss the teary, stubby, kind-hearted Sadness.

 **SADNESS**

You know if you're created a negative emotion it's basically reality giving you a good middle finger. Sadness had only been incarnated five minutes ago and she already felt the crushing weights of burden upon her rather stubby hands. She didn't have grace, optimism or even an idea as to what she was meant to be doing, characteristics which defined Joy all too well. Joy herself just kept her distance from Sadness like she was some form of contagious disease, which means you simply have to feel for her. True, she rarely did anything productive and was seriously distracting when lying face-first on the floor sobbing, but she was rarely respected or seen as any sort of benefit for Riley.

Totally cold, right? Don't worry, because unlike most of the other emotions, she got a relatively happy life towards the present. At first, she didn't mind the noticeable lack of attention – she knew all too well that nobody would understand why she was around when she herself wouldn't either – but things eventually became lonely and boring. You know if you're reading mind manuals, you're at the bottom of _that_ social circle. She'd look at the other four, with their purpose and reason and…acceptance.

(Insert more sad stories here)

Anyway, I think you can grasp things weren't happy-doo-lally. Sadness never got much of a chance until the teenage years rolled around. There were hormones and dates and explicit education and plenty of other things to depress you as fast as possible. She wasn't stuck up about her job. She didn't consider it above everyone else's. But she couldn't really complain either. Plus, everyone just wanted to hug her.

 _Well that sounds silly,_ you say. _She's just another emotion._

Yes, but she had eyes the size of dinner plates and cute glasses to match, making her instantly recognisable despite her wish to stay unnoticed. Disgust, for one, was quite literally green with envy.

"Oh, poor you!" she said with as much sugar as possible in her voice. An increasingly common occurrence, as puberty called for her much more than she'd originally imagined or hoped. But sugar wasn't always sweet. It caused gradual diabetes and decay. Both in food and from the mouth. So one day, she took a little stroll down Long-term and started touching all the golden memories, making them sad and upsetting. We still don't exactly know why. It's like touching an orange and it instantly turns mouldy in your hands. As far as she was concerned, anyone who went through the pain and suffering of simply navigating the maze of memories deserved a medal.

But she was about to throw herself into the memory dump. Yeah. She was that sick and tired of being sick and tired. It was a dull grey sky generated above her, so perfect weather for a potential suicide. And she'd checked her diary to make sure nothing else conflicted with her agenda besides moping and sniffling. She always wore slippers, so they threatened to come off with every fourth step as she shuffled to the edge and prepared to fall, but there were only a few centimetres to the edge when a mind worker seemingly appeared from nowhere and spoke in an amazingly calm manner.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" he softly asked, but his eyes seemed to drip menace.

 _Oh, someone who actually cares._ Sadness mistakenly thought. "I-" she began, but that was far enough, before he said, a bit louder this time, "You're going to waste space down there!"

She stopped mid-sentence. Oh well, it was worth a hope.

"If you want to kill yourself, go to the Subconscious. Or the food disposal chamber. Or…"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah, I got it." Sadness was just more exasperated than upset. "I'll go somewhere else."

She trudged off, leaving the mind worker to wonder whether the advertising department ought to release new _So you want to end your life: dos and don'ts_ pamphlets.

The food disposal chamber was situated below Riley's lower intestine and, predictably enough, in between her legs. The stench was oppressive. Picture a sloth taking a bath in ranch sauce and garlic mayonnaise. Or about ten sloths. You'd need a _big_ clothes peg over your nose. The sort of clothes peg that could protect you from an elephant fart or some enchanted one that only exists in the depths of your Deviant art browsing. If she didn't want to die, she'd be upset of the stench would cling to her turtleneck. There were no security codes to get inside, as you'd either be really stupid or clad in protective gear to enter.

A deep breath and the airlocked door hissed open.

Churning raw food in mushy piles swam beneath her as she felt the reeking whiff practically punch her in the nose. There was even a convenient diving-board like platform for her to jump from. Again, the same thing seemed to happen. Sadness was tired of life because life seemed to be done with her. But apparently, the torment just wasn't over yet. There was a gurgling sound and everything was sucked out into a giant plug hole. Riley had decided this, of all times, was the best time to use the loo. If she jumped now, all she would achieve was breaking her pudgy legs. And things were painful enough. Her ice cold heart crushed into a frozen pretzel.

"WASTE EXTRACTION COMPLETE. NEXT EMPTY IN APPROXIMATELY SIX HOURS." Came the automated monologue from the chamber computer. Great.

A mind worker wrapped in radioactive-proof suit stormed over. "Do you mind?" he shouted, still slightly muffled by the screen across his eyes. "This is food-related gunk containment only. If I'm cleaning your remains from this thing, you'll be paying my wages beforehand."

She couldn't. Believe it. Just a few seconds too late.

"You want to die? Go to the Memory dump. Or the Subconscious. Or the – are you even listening to me?"

"Not really." Was all she replied.

"Are you going to listen?"

"Not really."

"Are going to say anything besides not really?"

Silence ensued. "Not really."

The subconscious was the last place Sadness really wanted to go. It was a long, torturous death if you wanted to imprison yourself there. And, with anyone, she wanted it to be quick. Maybe she could try and eat the large broccoli plants which seemed to grow everywhere and poison herself. The area was specially modified to prevent any natural disease or pain so the victims could experience the agony for much longer than usual. Just a typical weekend in the dark side of Riley's mind.

She didn't have to say much to get the guards to put her inside, because she could smell their inexperience – and I mean that literally. They hadn't showered in weeks and their eyelids were heavy from sleep deprivation. They wouldn't understand a breakout if it danced around in front of them wearing a long pink dress and mounted on a rainbow-spurting pony.

They then lazily told them what they'd do to her arms and legs, with the help of a hammer and nails, if she attempted to leave. Sadness couldn't exactly follow the logic, but the description was realistic enough to make her comply instantly. Whether the prisoner had any weapons on her, the guards couldn't say, but that would take hours of standard protocol, which could be spent sleeping.

"Just go in." was about all one of them decided to tell her afterwards.

Sadness spent nine months inside the Subconscious before she decided things just weren't going to work. She'd tried eating broccoli (It was actually quite tasty), she'd tried getting predators to eat her (which of whom were too busy thrashing and kicking in eternal punishment to really notice her) and even attempted to cut her flabby throat with a shattered memory. It just disintegrated upon impact. There was the occasional broadcast from Anger up in headquarters, delivering regular heated sermons about how they deserved it being the absolute £$%* they were, and how the *&$% world was so much £*&$ better without them.

"Do it again and I'll come down there too!" was a frequent line, which was actually something Sadness quite wanted to see: him versus a rampaging hoover would have spiced things up a bit, but…no. Things were not only terrible, but just boring as well. She was dying to breathe fresh air instead of gravel dust. She'd just about had enough with the whole suicide thing, and swiftly decided to leave through the back door.

Yes. There was a back door. The mind workers had decided that a fire escape would do well for the prisoners, and hadn't even alarmed it. Or maybe people would just be so wrapped up in living hell that they wouldn't notice the neon sign. No matter how you look at her, you can't deny Sadness had luck on her side, no matter how unwelcome it was. And that I, the author, have a nice easy way to extend the plot without getting bored.

Anyway, where was I? Oh, yeah.

She wandered around Long term memory again, pondering another attempt to leap off the cliff into the dump, but the mind worker from before was watching her like a hawk. It was only at this point the other emotions actually realised she was gone. Another broadcast, this time echoing through Riley's entire body, came with an unusually upset-sounding Joy pleading for her return. This made Sadness feel wanted yet again for the first time in ages, but she knew this could and most likely would lead to more disappointment. Especially when Anger expressed his own opinion in such a way she wasn't exactly making any immediate plans to go back up there.

But enough was enough. She returned, but decided to come up with her own terms. Her first words when she reappeared back in headquarters were "I want to set some rules."

It was quite possible the only time Sadness sounded angry at anything. She wasn't shouting, but the iciness of her tone matched the shade of her skin.

The emotions looked at their own feet.

The first rule was simple: she could use the console when she felt necessary. Partly because she wanted the best for Riley, but also because she'd lost patience of being steamrollered by everyone else's insufferable egos.

And the second: she would be recognised as a person. Oh, how she wished she had a camera to snap the look on Disgust's face. Now she was happy. What was wrong with her today?

She glanced at each of them, silently daring them to disagree. Finally they obliged.

So that's Sadness covered. I think it was a good summary for the first chapter. But her oppressors have been left without a few pages dedicated to them. *Sigh*. Let's go to our first male emotion of the bunch.

Let's talk about Fear.


	3. Fear does some questionable activities

**So here's a third chapter. I highly doubt I'll be able to post every day like this. Thanks so far for the (two) people watching this story - much appreciated! Reviews and interesting ideas for future pages on Disgust, Anger or Joy would be appreciated. Hope you like it.**

* * *

 **FEAR**

Before Fear came along, headquarters was mainly at peace. People went there and did that, they sat around and just ignored whatever didn't concern them. The thing was, they also ignored the numerous safety hazards that surrounded both them and Riley too. A broken wrist when she was three? Painful, but not their problem. The memories made of material so fragile they almost faded before even being sent to Long-term? That was for someone trivial, like the mind workers. Not their problem. So of course Fear saw this and thought "Nu-uh! This ain't happening!"

Fear tried to make changes, but besides making the memory casing a few inches thicker, people just rolled their eyes whenever he shoved his custom-made "potential disaster" list in their faces. He saw how it was. He understood their opinions even if he didn't necessarily agree, but it was best to be prepared. Not being prepared was the second worst scenario on his list: the first being a sudden meteor strike.

It was after a few months he realised he was good at keeping Riley safe. He was actually pretty sure she would have died three times over by now if he hadn't been there. He wasn't brave, God, no. But if a car was about to hit her in the street, she would be able to dive out of the way instead of being flattened into an organ pancake. And that made him feel good.

When Riley's twelfth birthday came, the "puberty" button was pressed by accident when he tried to stop her from choking on her drink. She ended up choking slightly anyway, but the deed was done. Disgust decided he ought to be punished one way or another, because now unexpected alerts and problems were starting to appear every day, but the others managed to calm him down. Neither of them had liked each other despite the fact that they were once stuck together in a sudden absence of Joy and Sadness. In the end, she charmed her way into the final vote, which forced him to Mind manual business, researching teenage protocols. Even Sadness smiled faintly at this, because someone else was taking the rap as well.

That didn't mean Fear never had much of a social life, despite the constant pleas for his attention, including sudden odours and hair growth in rather unexpected places. Over the years, he'd always had a certain feeling of physical attraction towards Joy.

I mean, perfect match, right? A raw, cowardly, scrawny nerve coupled with very embodiment of the light and fruit of life? But deep down, Fear staged imaginary conversations in his head where she admitted to liking purple stickmen and often found himself drooling and gazing numbly at her. In other words, he became headquarters' first stalker. He even found it hard to concentrate on his work. Riley almost failed an entire maths test because of his inability to keep her nervous and mindful, and there was even one point where she almost got struck by lightning if he hadn't brought her down the hill only seconds before. Things weren't going well for him, so he decided to seek help. And by seek help, I don't mean go to us mind workers who actually know about Riley's memories on love. Nope, he went to the only other male emotion, who hated him just as much as Disgust: Anger. Normally, Anger would have greeted him with a smack across the jaw and maybe a few punches to the gut, but today he was in quite a good mood. Surprisingly good, considering how there wasn't a single trace of vengeance in his tone when he noticed him.

"Fear! How's it going? Long time since I've had you come to my door!"

Fear was tempted to remind him that the main reason he hadn't come to his door in a while was because he was once kicked out of his room and told never to return after an incident involving Anger's best shirt, a cable box and a chainsaw. He only just managed to stop it all slipping out.

"Hey, uh, listen." He said, scratching his neck feebly. "It's about a girl."

Anger's eyebrow raised in that cynical way. Then he gave him that sarcastic grin which he always seemed to specially reserve when he didn't believe him.

"Ooh, becoming a man now, are we?" he mocked.

"Y..Yeah…" Fear replied, unsure.

He had a whole, careful speech prepared. Only two sentences actually deemed necessary before he noticed Anger's mouth tightening and the constant looks he kept throwing at Disgust, who was smiling back.

 _I'm not going to laugh. I'm not going to laugh._ Anger kept repeating to himself. But then Disgust winked and it was all over.

"BWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!" he burst out, spraying spit all over Fear. He instantly started panicking and checked himself for signs of a sudden disease. "You actually think you have a chance with…Joy? Really? You…OHOHOHOHOHOHO!" sounding like a drunken Santa, he stood up from his bed, clasped Fear none too slightly across the shoulder and dragged him down to his position.

"Listen, let me explain how this system works." He said in between chortles. "People who hide behind curtains and under beds aren't exactly ideal girl targets."

"I don't just do that, you know." Fear said, a bit offended. He tried to back away considerably, but Anger's grip kept him in his place. He wasn't about to be coated in yet more spit.

Anger flashed that false grin again. "Then what do you do?"

"I protect Riley."

A gleam of something in Anger's eyes. "You ran away from her. You scare her. So you are _definitely_ an absolute chick magnet in this place. You just flat out _rock_ when it comes to Riley wetting her bed during the night."

"This is ridiculous. You weren't even going to consider helping me were you?"

"Not really." Anger said through his teeth, while Disgust snorted contemptuously. "And I also remember saying I'd kill you if you came back in my room again."

Oh. So he had remembered. That burning trickster.

Twenty seconds later, Fear hobbled back to the control panel with no confidence, no skills when it came to confessing love, and nothing besides a throbbing backside. Boy, could Anger kick hard. Since he'd revealed his big secret, the loudmouths would obviously spill sooner or later. The looks they kept slinging him across the dinner table were enough. They might have actually told Joy, too, if it wasn't for the fact that in a blight of panic he stuck his knife in Anger's left thigh. It got a lot of blood all over the carpets and caused Disgust to pass out, but for as long as he was hospitalized, Fear was safe.

"Wonder what he was wanting to say?" Joy asked, a little concerned but all the same curious. If someone was telling her a nice juicy joke or snippet of conversation and were stopped halfway through, it just made her all the more excited.

"Don't know." Was all Fear said and took a much bigger interest in his evening spaghetti than he usually would have.

Despite the constant pressure of the can of beans being spilled open in the most life-ruining way possible, Fear found it easier to get things back on track. Anger still hadn't come back from the medical department, so he telephoned him to say he owed the headquarters another knife since he'd burned it in a rage. He only got as far as saying who he was before he was informed the ward was open and he was very welcome to visit if he wanted a kick straight into the gut. Anger seemed to be turning the air purple with his swearing, and he was still in a foul-mouthed fly as Fear hung up on him. Every day, the world became a more and more volatile place.

The Easter holidays seemed to roll around fast. There wasn't much for Fear to do, since eating chocolate wasn't especially dangerous until your brain started deforming due to prolonged use of sugar. There was no meteorological chance of an alien invasion either, so he just returned to the stalking habits he'd picked up a few months before. Staring at Joy's vividly blue hair, in fact.

Then June. Anger was finally discharged from hospital, so Fear made sure he was outside punching, smacking, kicking and bone-breaking distance for the next few days. His days of keeping his secret crush were numbered. He 'd better tell her. But what if she denied him and they didn't talk for the next few months, years even? Christ. Love was so complicated and unpredictable. And he _hated_ unpredictable.

Joy had taken up a fond habit of dancing along to Riley's dreams every night during duty. Again, he knew this because of his aimless staring every night whenever he got up to get coffee. But now was time to take action.

"You dance very well." Said Fear very quietly, as to not startle her. It was midnight and the main room was pitch black except for her signature glow. He'd seen lots of pickup lines beforehand, but decided the basics were best right now. The last thing he could afford was to get tongue tied.

Joy did look startled and mildly confused as she asked "Yes, Fear? What are you doing at this time of night?"

Uh oh. Stutters were occurring. "I er – I – I –you know, I – uh- I…oh….." he tried helplessly, speech failing him.

He just burst out in a series of heartfelt words and confessions, admitting everything, even the creepy stuff. And Joy just honestly felt ready to explode with radiance. She was a bit sorry for him, but appreciated the sentiment he had.

"And Anger was going to tell anyway, so I kind of had to, like, right now." He rambled as fast as possible, before pausing for breath and sucking in lung fulls of air. Talking really fast, he learned, was a big hazard he'd never seen before. It was great for getting your feelings out there and running off before anyone could comprehend what you just said, but it didn't grant much lenience to your lungs.

"Oh, Fear." Now it was Joy's turn to remain speechless. "You really shouldn't have." A mix of shy crimson leaked into her saturated yellow aura.

 _I almost didn't,_ thought Fear.

Joy extended a hand. "Come dance."

So they did. He obviously tripped over his own legs despite the slow waltz, and positively wrapped himself up in his own arms halfway through a foxtrot. But hell, there was finally some form of action in his life. Maybe not wrestling dinosaurs, but enjoyable and (at least to him) challenging nonetheless.

You know what? We'll say a bit more about Fear. The guy had more on his mind than just romance. Our final few words will be on things afterwards. The _Mind reader_ wasn't too happy about the shortness of my last tale, so I'll carry on with a gun pointed at my head. Literally. And yes, mister publisher, I know you're looking over my shoulder.

Fear was good at lying. Sneaky, but it was good for getting Riley out of trouble. But at certain times, the pressure got to him. One of Joy's favourites was when an eight-foot gorilla was claimed to have eaten Riley's school report. It came out after quite a while of thought, too. Dad listened to this for a while and informed her he'd be going gorilla unless she told the truth.

"Well, it spat the thing back out again. But it was so gross!" Riley added. "He died of…er…mad cow disease afterwards."

Dad wondered how the girl made such unbelievable nonsense come from that gob of hers, and especially why this supposed gorilla had died of mad cow disease, of all illnesses. But he didn't press the point. He knew it was pretty much hopeless. Kids would be kids. Just as long as she didn't see wander across the likes of King Kong, he was good.

Fear stared behind Riley as Dad shook his head and wandered off into the living room to watch some telly. He knew he should have gone with the evil dragon frying the report instead.


	4. Anger unleashes the death bucket

**My fourth chapter, now with three followings and one review! Suggestions for the next two chapters are still incredibly appreciated! Stay tuned for another chapter - maybe not tomorrow, but later, I promise! Also, yes, I did include a bit of Starnerve last chapter. Register trademark? :D Anyway, I sincerely hope you enjoy. This one's got the most words in, anyway.**

* * *

 **ANGER**

Ho ho, this guy. I wasn't giving much of a hint as to who I would do next, because Fear's all-too-creepy following was the least questionable thing that happened over the past years. I was left with a choice between three of what possibly may be the most irritating organisms on the face of the earth, and the most hazardous diseases since the Bieber fever. It's like choosing how you want to die from either a cobra, a noose or a pistol shot to the head. He's got a frisky temper and he's a walking time bomb just waiting to go off. If the school bully, or, heaven forbid, your own dad had Anger as a lead emotion, you know childhood's going to suck. And if you were a mind worker with him as an employer – well, you'd better make sure the coffee you're serving him is steaming hot and the newspaper's nicely folded, because getting thrown into the memory dump will be the least of your worries.

Despite the constant feeling of hostility I'm building up towards this guy, he only really wants what's fair for Riley. I just know that once this gets out, he'll tear the place apart looking for me, so the publishers had better have that bomb bunker ready. Anger is like that sort teacher who sits all relaxed with a misbehaving class, then at some random day at some random moment for some random reason he'd suddenly yell: "That's it! Detention for EVERYONE!" and force you to write six copies of the school rules. I mean, please dude. There's a difference between a little hostility and _going nuclear._

Anger's bad luck began when Riley was two. The very year, he was incarnated, in fact. Despite sounding about sixty years old, he was only eleven at this point. Again, another fact that's going to get me skinned alive.

"Take care of yourself." Her uncle had told her one day, clasping his new relative in a long goodbye and travelling to Texas to get shot in a poorly planned bank robbery. Riley was then stuck with her miserable aunt at Saturdays, a failed musician whose career highlight consisted of being thrown overboard by several hungry fisherman who claimed they wanted cod and not the latest Nirvana rip-off for lunch. If Anger had gotten closer to emotions such as Fear, attempting to talk with them instead of strangling them, he would have learnt that life wasn't a perfect ride. But he didn't. He stayed wrapped up in his independent beliefs and refused to look any further, having lost his (already faded) ability to see the humour in anything.

So did he stay enclosed in his own enraged dreams for the rest of Riley's existence? If you guessed no, you're learning. A certain day was bad in Riley's life – her first secondary school exams. Everyone was bustling around trying to find every single recurring memory about multiplying fractions, while Anger sat on the couch and stuck out his leg a few times to see whether he could trip someone over, mainly Fear.

"Oh, and by the way" Disgust suddenly told him, trying to look dignified with armfuls of sad and happy orbs weighing her down (Failing spectacularly, you'll be glad to hear), "Riley's teacher says she may fail this year if she doesn't get full marks."

Anger didn't look up from behind his newspaper.

"Yeah?" he said flatly. "So?"

"You'll be needing to keep her determined through this, or she'll fail. And I know that you know that I know Fear will be getting all the praise tonight by keeping her worried and anxious in order for her to concentrate. Not you."

Anger didn't respond this time, but his fingers tightened slightly on the sports page. She didn't give any sign that meant she was trying to irritate him, but she promised herself a smirk when it was all over.

"So who's going to get the limelight, I wonder?" she said out loud in mock wonder. "The snivelling snail or the top man? Or should I say, emotion?"

That worked. The air around Anger's head bubbled considerably fast as he slammed down his newspaper and stormed over to the telephone. He'd be damned if Fear was getting Riley through this thing and not him.

Disgust watched him go and the smile that had been creeping to spread was finally let loose. Finally, the ape was doing some actual work. Men weren't that hard to understand after all.

"Hello, that is Anger?" came one of the mind workers up the line.

"No, it's the magical unicorn." Anger barked back down. "Now shut up and listen."

It felt wonderful, getting to command people around.

"Find me every angry memory of a maths exam we've ever had!" he shouted. The mind worker held the receiver a considerable distance from his ear. "And be quick about it!"

The mind worker decided to play along. "OK, you want fries with that? Or would you like the special deal where we'll throw in the coke and the toy?" he joked. There was no fear of death by incineration when you were sixteen miles away from the furnace.

Anger didn't know whether to laugh or rage.

He picked rage.

"JUST GET THE MEMORIES, WILL YOU? DO IT AS FAST AS POSSIBLE AND MAYBE I WON'T SNAP YOUR SPINE!"

Silence for a few seconds. "Hello?"

The mind worker sounded rather irritated himself. "Yes, yes, I'm thinking, damnit. Someone has to."

Anger closed his eyes and counted to five, which was the number of bones he wanted to break at the minute. "You know what? Just get me any memories related to any exam we've ever taken. That'll get her determined, but not too overconfident."

"Um…"

"Yes, what now?"

"Sorry for asking boss, but wouldn't the whole _anger_ part of the memory cause mental rage and may even cause her to make mistakes in brief seconds of hate at the whole thing? I know you want her to be ready and all, but shouting in the middle of complete silence isn't generally looked upon in exams as a good thing. Or am I just talking complete nonsense?"

Anger let the phone drop with a clatter.

 _Oh, hell._ He hadn't thought of that.

When he spoke it again, it was with slight defeat. "Get me the memory changer. That thing that once switched all the happy memories to faded and blue ones. It's somewhere in the subconscious. Release it and bring it here."

"May I ask why it's in the subconscious?"

"No, you may not. But all I know is that it's there. I think I might have yelled at it through the speakers a few times. Follow its scent. Wrap it chains. Google it if you want to, just get me the damn thing!"

This particular silence was deafening.

"Sure, why not?"

"Here we are sir."

Anger was alone in headquarters at the moment. Good thing too, because otherwise everyone would have been staring at him as if he was mad. And not in the good way.

"Are you sure this is the memory changer?" he managed to say, too dumbfounded too even insult the mind worker delivering it.

"Yup."

" _The_ memory changer?"

"Pretty sure."

"The same one that turned our memories –"

"Faded and grey, yes. It's evil. It's haunting. It cost us several ropes, a few wheels to drag it on and about the lives of sixty co-workers when trying to catch it."

"It's a bucket." Anger said flatly.

"Well…yes. But it's an _evil_ bucket."

Anger sighed. "And _why_ ," he growled, forcing himself to keep his cool, "is the thing a six-foot cleaning supply?"

The mind worker shrugged. "We named him Bobby."

Bobby the evil bucket didn't exactly have that dark a feel to it, so Anger was sort of glad it didn't have feelings. He would have died from the ridicule ages ago in that thing's position.

"And how do I use it? Is there an ON switch or something, or…"

The mind worker should have stayed, because it may have been entertaining to watch the guy struggle. He just shrugged again and said "None of my business."

He walked away in such a self-satisfied manner he was amazed that he'd managed to leave the place with both his legs still intact.

Anger managed to get the thing awake after about four or five hours, give or take. Disgust and Fear had returned during all of this, so he had to bear with their excruciating arrogance and tedious grins of him fixing a bucket for half the time, too. But even he needed a good excuse to murder his fellow comrades, so the chainsaw and sledgehammer stayed in his wardrobe where they belonged. I don't know how he knew when it was fixed. All he really did was smash it with a wrench. Maybe it was the big booming voice it gave out.

Yeah. Yeah, it was probably the voice.

"I AM THE MEMORY CHANGER." It boomed, searing grey light spilling out everywhere like you'd just wandered into emo heaven. "I WILL CHANGE THE EMOTION OF ANY THREE EMOTIONS FOR YOU, O CREATOR! I AM INDEED A FORCE TO BE RECKONED WITH, SO WATCH OUT WHEN THOSE THREE OR UP! OTHERWISE –"

"OK, I get it." Said Anger. "Doom and despair, etcetera, etcetera. Just make these orbs happy, will you?"

"OH COME ON." Sulked the voice. "I'D JUST GOTTEN TO THE REALLY COOL PART. I'VE BEEN PLANNING THAT SPEECH FOR YEARS." It grumbled about his interrupted monologue for a few moments before Anger persuaded (quote _threatened_ ) him to turn his selected red orbs to more joyous memories. He didn't like Joy herself and he certainly didn't like mystical objects that were meant to live in store cupboards, but it was, of course, for Riley.

"ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT. BUT I MUST WARN YOU, I WILL SOON UNLEASH TOTAL HAVOC –"then he caught Anger's look and said "NEVER MIND. CONVERTING MEMORIES…"

It was just like that evil wizard off that really boring movie Riley once watched. But the difference was you could turn the movie off. Turning off the bucket did not seem to be an option.

The memories in Anger's hands started shaking violently, and the entire colour spectrum suddenly seem to flash at him before settling on the rick, milky gold. Then they stopped. Things had actually worked out nicely for once.

"THERE." Muttered the voice. "SATISFIED?"

"Good." Anger replied, blinking a few times to make sure the colours hadn't burned any of his eyes. "Now, where should I put these for the test." He thought out loud.

"DON'T LOOK AT ME. I GREW UP WITH A MOP FOR A SISTER AND A SHELF FOR A MOTHER. WHAT DO YOU THINK I KNOW ABOUT HEADQUARTERS?"

 _True. True._ Thought Anger.

"NOW THEN!" the voice yelled, getting, if possible, even louder. "I'M GOING TO GO OUT THERE AND KILL A FEW PEOPLE. SAVE THE EMOTIONS FOR ME TO KILL TOO, WILL YOU?"

It didn't speak after that, but Anger could faintly hear confused and stressed grunting sounds emanating from behind the metallic rim. It was like someone making out with a courgette. Finally, it spoke again.

"I APPEAR TO BE STUCK."

Anger put down the orbs in front of the monitor and refused to deny himself this little bit of fun. "Yes. Yes, you are."

"WHY IS THIS, PUNY BRICK MAN?"

He was about to smash its cream paintwork in for calling him that, but he decided against it.

"That's because you're a bucket. A disgustingly decorated one, at that."

"OH YEAH. I DON'T HAVE ANY LEGS, DO I?"

"No, you really don't."

"I DID _NOT_ THINK THIS ONE THROUGH."

"No. No, you really didn't."

"CRAP."

"Crap."

"UH…LITTLE HELP?"

"Sure."

"WHERE EXACTLY ARE YOU DRAGGING ME?" it shouted half an hour later.

"Somewhere very large and dark." Said Anger from behind him. "You'll see."

"SOUNDS DELIGHTFUL." Said the bucket without a hint of sarcasm in its voice. "WHAT DO YOU CALL IT?"

"Well, we people call it the memory dump."

"OH, GOOD." Silence for ten seconds while the name was processed. "HANG ON – WHAT?!"

"Bon voyage!" was the only reply as he was sent smashing through the window and into the abyss below. A single vowel which seemed to go on forever followed him down, and if the bucket had a face, it would have been sitting with its mouth drawn out in an endless scream. Anger would have normally scolded himself – both Riley and him hated using foreign languages, even the simplest phrases. But hey, killing a giant sanitation device never exactly happens every day.

When Joy got back, she noticed Anger had already dispersed his own select memories at the base of the console, ready for use. Nobody had commented on the loud voice or the smashed glass except calling a repair team. We really should have cleaned up the mess called that called themselves "the leaders", now I look back, but we didn't really know the meaning of free will back then, for whatever reason. Perhaps things were just normally very loud in headquarters.

So there we are, Anger. I've dared to mention your name, and I'd better lock the doors. Perhaps those new security lasers I bought yesterday would give me a head start in the chase if you tried to murder me in the shower. And what's the moral of the story? I don't really know this time. We've had _don't commit suicide_ and _don't stalk girls instead of simply talking to them._ Hey, how about _don't trust walking volcanoes_ or _don't reawaken evil entities, even if they are just a bucket._ No – I've got it. Don't smash headquarters windows. May seem obvious to you, but it cost us hell to pay.

Now then, let's think…we've got two of emotions left to go through. Both female. Both as painful to learn about as the other. You know what? Let's go with Disgust next. Have your sanitation spray ready – no germs will be contaminating _her_ page.


	5. You gotta love Disgust

**Wow. It feels like ages. Probably because it has been. Supreme Chickenlord, many thanks for your constructive criticism. Very well appreciated! Now this chapter's a bit rushed, but that's simply because things are a little busy at the minute. Nevertheless, I hope you enjoy and leave perhaps another review. Ciao!**

* * *

 **DISGUST**

Well, first the good news. Disgust was knockout gorgeous, with her green eyes and make-up and all of that. Take the prettiest thing you've seen, and she'd make it a personal mission to ensure it's just as good. For me it would be bubble-gum candyfloss. Candyfloss and bubble gum individually are good enough, but how would she attempt to beat them together? Turn herself blue or something? Anyway, when she wasn't busy trying to fulfil mind workers' sugared food fantasies, she instead found it amusing to make things miserabl- I mean, helping everyone discover the joys of social life!

You want messed up? Well, Disgust was basically (supposed to be) the god of self-image and the judge of what was healthy for you and what was poison. Not just with food, either. Sheesh. It's like making me the god of complete paperwork and attention in hour-long meetings. For instance, the most famous incident was Riley's first meeting with broccoli. A single, harmless vegetable that set every single alarm bell ringing in her head. How does she know this stuff? She can't exactly access Google in a split second, and even she could, all those memory orbs interrupt the Wi-Fi signal. Sometimes, she just guessed, and that meant she could barely get her day job right. One duty of hers was to ensure Riley didn't become the laughing stock or centre of nasty attention (of course this rarely happened – probably since she had her nose buried in a makeup kit while it was happening), so keep your little snippets of gossip to yourself. And if you didn't – well, she always made sure Anger was on her side like some sort of trained attack gopher. With her sneaky, hypocritical side, she'd spread plenty of hot gossip of her own, a guilty pleasure. But if she got pissed at someone, she'd win over the enemy with sneaky tricks and sly words, whereas Anger loved nothing more than a bloody brawl with broken arms and missing teeth (Yeah, he really was a sweetheart, that guy).

Disgust was the second last emotion incarnated, just a day before Anger. She saved two year old Riley from a spider that was sitting directly in front her high chair. Again, she knew nothing about spiders. I can only surmise the thought process:

 _Eight legs – Not human – Crawls – RED ALERT!_

Then the poor thing was an insect kebab under a pudgy baby hand.

Did Disgust get a medal for that? Nah. She did prevent any taking of candy from strangers or crying in public (except for one memorable occasion, _wink wink_ ), but a lot of the time she was whiny and annoying and prevented Riley from getting stuck in. (Of course, I meant doing gross stuff and not having any shame in it. What did you think I meant?) All she really did was make herself an enemy to spiders and encourage the giant broccoli segments down in the subconscious to draw a rough sketch of her face as a darts board.

By the time Riley was twelve, Disgust had plenty of things to get freaked about. This was lucky for said giant broccoli segments, as they were getting rather bored down in the subconscious. They'd chatted themselves half to death with the venomous spiders and were hoping she'd maybe get Riley to dislike a board game or maybe a PlayStation or something. She instead made sure that once the dreaded "puberty" button was pressed, disgust was only a subtle and cautious feeling. With so much going on in the teenage years ahead, too much gross at once would definitely cause a meltdown. So in a way, she was born from Riley's first pet hate, which tells you something about her true nature.

Disgust was a popular enough emotion, but often got jealous when the spotlight was on anyone but her. There was one point she caught Sadness trying to knit. It was the most sorrowing sight. She was attempting to design a little woollen hat, but it kept turning out like a hangman's noose. Or maybe she was just trying to get the thickness of the noose right, I don't know.

"Oh that's easy." Disgust smirked, standing at the corner of the room, checking her nails. She smiled a tight little smile Sadness wanted to smash with a brick. "Anyone can knit a hat."

Ever heard of the famous knitting contest between them that followed? No? Well that's because it wasn't so famous. Sadness may not have been a champion at the art, but Disgust had never made anything with her two hands other than trouble. She literally ended up with a needle in her thigh and the wool wrapped all the way across her face like a mummy.

"Never liked the stuff anyway!" she shouted, struggling against the snares of the soft ropes while Anger tried to burn her free.

It was possibly one of the only times Sadness ever laughed.

So she was one of those can't-live-with can't-live-without emotions. She kept her distance from some, and some kept their distance from her. A more memorable occasion than the knitting incident was when Anger grew tired of her constant arrogance and disrespect for him and decided to blame her for Riley's short temper once she hit puberty. This, of course, was much easier than blaming himself. He could of course stick a knife in her un-knitting needled thigh, like Fear, but he had that pride and independence that stopped him from copying others. So he got her a little makeup kit. She was suspicious when it was presented to her as a "Christmas gift", especially since how it was April, but makeup was makeup. When she opened it, she didn't get the perm or face wipes she was expecting, but rather a face full of virus and disease Anger had managed to collect from Riley's waste disposal unit.

Yeah. She basically got a face full of half-digested faeces. No wonder she got in a bit of a strop.

Add to the equation the fact that a full-size fishing net sprang out of such a tiny little bag and enveloped her whole, and you've got one screaming, un-ladylike emotion letting the curse words fly. Anger burst in with an axe, which was recent inspiration from that Friday the 13th movie Riley had watched a few days back. Disgust hadn't seen it since she'd been too busy barfing due to the sight of blood.

"Well look who it is." He snarled. He considered going all Jason Voorhees on her and turning her into Disgust salad dressing with extra olives, but decided against it. Instead, he went to the other emotions, who were settling down for lunch.

"Don't eat yet." Anger grinned. And I'm telling you, if Anger's grinning, you run away ASAP. "I've got to show you something that'll probably make you sick yourselves."

He showed them the squirming green mass who was now blushing furiously. Even Fear found it hilarious, despite the many dangers relating to asphyxiation under the fishing net.

"Disgust," Joy managed, fighting back the laugh "You look _wonderful_."

The scene was so captivating they even had Riley draw it out on Microsoft paint and upload it online. So if you've ever got the chance, see if you can find it. I know I will.

In case you're feeling sorry for Disgust, don't. She did some pretty questionable things later on.

Now even by the emotion's standards, this is crazy: a few weeks later, when all the images were on Tumblr and recorded clips of her were on YouTube, Anger and Disgust started briefly dating. Sort of like, _yeah I dumped a load of evil entities on you and now we're going out. Deal with it._ They'd been with Riley for thirteen years by this point, met new people, faced new enemies, beat up most of them and generally had a good time. The next target on their hit list was Fear. Yep, he's the guy we're meant to pity here. (Joy's looking over my shoulder right now and laughing. What's so funny?) "Anger," she said one day, after they had a bit of a private smooch. "We need a bit of a summer job, while Riley's off to the beach. I don't think we'll exactly be needed right now."

Anger scratched his head. He liked the word _summer_. He wasn't too sure about the word _job._ But he was pretty bored. And we of course, can get quite restless once this happens. Shouting at things down in the subconscious didn't entertain him like it used to, despite their cute little shrieks. So he went along with it. "Sure, whatever you say."

The big plan involved scaring Fear enough to keep him from ever touching the console. They actually succeeded too, with just a scary vampire mask and some hair gel. But then Fear complained and never did dream duty to the fact that the "punk vampires" may attack him in his dozing.

"Shut up." Anger told him in the end. "If you weren't a fellow emotion, you'd be down in the memory dump with that memory changer!"

Heart-warming, how the two of them got along.

Then Riley suffered an injury in hockey. When you usually see a tank of a boy charging at you with a three-pound puck and a stick the size and thickness of a tree branch, your usual response would be to _get out the way._

But since Fear was cowering in his room, she woke up the next morning with a sprained ankle and a black eye. Repeat this about six times and Fear was finally ready to get back on the console, while Anger was postponed for endangering the poor girl. Disgust managed to talk her way out of the punishment, which just goes to show how slippery she happened to be. If buttered eel existed up in headquarters, put the two side by side you wouldn't tell the difference. She even had the looks as well.

Another happy ending! You see, I think I've gone through all of them…except…oh God, wait…it's worse…we've still got that one major player left. I've kept her away for as long as possible, but now she's wanting a slice of the action. I suppose we've delayed the inevitable long enough.

Let's go talk about Joy.

* * *

 **And that's it. Our final chapter might be posted next week, possibly even next month due to my unusually slow work rate. Nevertheless, ideas for other stories are welcomed with open arms and I hope to see y'all soon.**


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